Taking Stock
by allthingsdecent
Summary: Looks like House pissed off the wrong woman this time. But how will it affect Cuddy?


**This is a slightly momentous fic because it comes from a prompt from MY SISTER. To say that she merely tolerates my **_**House**_** love/fic writing habit is an understatement. But one night she was feeling particularly indulgent and we watched "Living the Dream" together and then she came up with this rather adorable prompt. This fic actually takes place in S3, right around the time of "Top Secret." Hope you enjoy and…thanks Felly! **

House was at the motorcycle shop, standing with his arms folded in front of a gleaming Harley Davidson cruiser, when a petite blonde woman approached him.

"Thinking of buying the Fat Boy?" she asked, using the bike's nickname.

House rolled his eyes a bit.

"As I told the two other _extremely annoying_ sales people, I'm just browsing."

"I don't work here," the woman said, holding up her hand to protest. "I was just going to encourage you to test drive it. I love mine."

House turned, took a second look at her. She couldn't have been more than 5 foot 2—and her big, possibly fake boobs didn't exactly seem ideally aerodynamic.

"_You_ drive a Fat Boy," he said skeptically

"What, a woman can't drive a Harley?" she said.

"You can't weigh more than 100 pounds!" House said.

"I'm stronger than I look," she said, confidently.

He raised his eyebrows.

"I'm sure you are," he said.

She wasn't his type: a plastic-seeming blonde, tanned, with overly taut arm muscles. But flirting was cheap.

"So what do you ride, handsome?"

"A Respa," he said.

"Oh," she said disapprovingly. "A Japanese bike."

"Yes," he said. "It's my way of saying, 'Way to go on that whole Pearl Harbor thing, Japan!'"

She laughed.

"I'm not suggesting that riding a Japanese bike is an act of treason. Just that once you go American you never go back."

"Wait. We still talking about bikes here?" he said.

"Possibly," she said. Then, peering at him, she said: "You're cute. We should ride together one day. I'll even let you take mine for a spin."

"You or the bike?" he said, amused.

"If you play your cards right, maybe both," she said, raising her eyebrows.

He chuckled.

"I'm actually more of a riding solo type," he said.

She cocked her head.

"So we can skip the ride and go straight to dinner and drinks."

"I'm actually more of an eating and drinking solo type, too," he said.

"Then how about right to the sex?" she said, boldly. "Or do you prefer to do that alone, too?"

"Sorry, I'll pass."

She squinted at him.

"Gay?" she asked.

"If that'll make you feel better," he said, being a jerk (for a change).

She frowned.

"So is it just that you're threatened by strong women?" she said. Her voice suddenly had a small catch to it.

"Yes, that's it," he said, sarcastically. For a brief moment, his mind flashed to Cuddy, in her power suits, strutting around the hospital. "You nailed it."

"Whoa. Why so hostile?"

"Because. . .forget it."

"Oh, now you've got to spill."

"It's just that, why can't women ever accept rejection?" he said. "Why does it always have to be because he's gay or is threatened by strong women or has mommy issues? Why can't it just be that maybe you're not my type?"

"_Do_ you have mommy issues?" she said.

He gave a slight laugh.

"I like my women the way I like my bikes," he said, staring at her chest. "With all their original parts."

Now she was really pissed.

"Or perhaps Japanese bikes aren't the only Asian fetish you have . . ." she snapped.

"Have a nice day," he said, limping away from her.

"Freak!" she yelled after him.

"Bitch!" he said back.

######

About two weeks later, House was heading to his office when he spotted Cuddy talking to a strange woman. He looked twice, because everything Cuddy did was of interest to him, and then his mouth dropped open.

"What the. . ."

He grabbed Wilson, who was chatting up a pretty nurse, and pulled him into the stairwell.

"Hey, I was making progress there!" Wilson protested.

"I already know how the story ends—with you paying more alimony," House said. "We have a more pressing matter to discuss. Like who is that woman Cuddy is talking to?"

"Little blonde number? Big, uh, clipboard?"

"Yes."

"She's the hospital inspector."

"The what?"

"It's standard stuff. The Jersey State Medical Board sends out an inspector every few years just to make sure everything's running smoothly and up to code. She's ours."

"How long will she be here?"

"Three or four days."

"And will she be inspecting the _entire_ hospital?"

"That's the plan. Cuddy has already introduced her to most of the department heads. I _can't imagine_ why she was saving you for last."

House let his head loll back, with a little too much force, against the concrete wall. It made a _thud_ sound.

"Fuck me. . ." he said.

"What? You know her?" Wilson said. Then his eyes widened: "You _know_ know her?"

"No nothing like that. We met at the bike shop. She asked me out. I kind of blew her off in a somewhat insulting way. I'm fairly certain she hates my guts."

Wilson laughed.

"Only you, House, would have an inspector who _pre_-hates you."

"Go grab Cuddy," House said. "Tell her you need her for an emergency consult."

"In the stairwell?"

"Make sure she comes alone."

A few minutes later, Wilson returned, followed by an annoyed looking Cuddy.

When she saw House, she rolled her eyes.

"Why am I not even slightly surprised to see you here?" she said.

"We need to talk."

"House, I'm in the middle of something kind of important."

"That's what we need to talk about."

"About the inspector?"

Her face fell.

"House. What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. It's just that I. . .know her."

"You know Kristin Davies?"

"Is that her name?"

"I thought you said you knew her."

"I met her a couple of weeks ago, at the bike store. She rides a Harley, did you know that?"

"Really?" Cuddy said, vaguely impressed.

"Anyway, she wanted to take me for a ride, if you know what I mean."

"He means sex," Wilson said helpfully.

"I got that," Cuddy said.

"And I . . .rejected her."

"Why on earth would a man-whore like you say no to sex with a hot biker chick?"

House looked at her, slightly hurt.

"I'm not a. . .I . . . she's not my type," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Cuddy sighed.

"This is a disaster. Even under the best of circumstances, introducing you to her was going to be a minefield. The fact that she arrived _pre_-hating you? It's Armeggedon."

Wilson nodded sympathetically.

"I said the exact same thing," he said.

"So that's why you can't show her the diagnostic department," House said.

"Not an option," Cuddy said. "I'm just supposed to avoid an entire wing of the hospital?"

"Tell her it's undergoing maintenance."

"House, the diagnostic department is a huge part of this hospital. I can't just put up an Out of Service sign."

"Then I don't know what to tell you. She hates my guts and we're going to fail the inspection."

"Then _fix it!"_ Cuddy said.

"Fix it how?"

"I don't know. Whatever it takes. Be nice. Apologize. Suck up to her."

"I've never sucked up to anybody in my life."

"You're right House. Your pride is more important than this entire hospital passing inspection."

House eyed her, mopily.

"Okay, I'll suck up," he said.

"Good," she said.

She began to walk out and then said, "I can't avoid introducing you much longer. So do it soon. And keep me posted."

#####

He paid Nurse Jeffrey 20 bucks to call him the minute he saw Kristin Davies heading out to the parking lot.

"Twenty bucks more if you stall her long enough for me to get there first."

"I would've done it for 10," Nurse Jeffrey said. "Sucker."

But it worked—Nurse Jeffrey asked her what gym she went to, which led to a very long discussion of their mutual love of Zumba—and by the time Davies arrived to her parked bike, House was standing over it, admiring it.

When he saw her, he pretended to be surprised.

"This is yours?" he said.

"Hey, it's the freak," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here," he said. "I'm a doctor. What are _you_ doing here?"

"I'm a hospital inspector." Then she narrowed her eyes. "So this is really just a big coincidence?"

"No coincidence," House said. "I'm still lusting after your bike."

"But _only_ my bike…" she cracked.

"About that."

"Forget it," she said. "You're right. I'm not good with rejection."

"I doubt you have much experience with it," he said, looking her up and down.

She eyed him.

"You don't have to make nice with me just because I'm the inspector. I'm tough but fair."

"Actually, I've been thinking about you ever since that day at the bike shop. I was an ass."

"No, you were just being honest."

"Not quite. The truth is, I've been a little gun-shy lately because I just got out of a long relationship. . ." It was a lie, of course, but it seemed like a credible one.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Were you the dumper or the dumpee?"

"Most definitely the dumpee. We were going to go on a cross-country bike trip together so…"

"My little proposition couldn't have been more poorly timed."

"You had no way of knowing. . ."

"I really stepped in it, huh?"

"I'm the one who stepped it," House said. "Anyway, I'd like a do-over, if possible."

"A do-over?"

"Yeah. I know this little French place out on Rt. 1. They have the most amazing coq au vin. We could ride out there, have dinner."

"That sounds . . . incredible. But don't you think it would be prudent to wait until after the inspection?"

House wrinkled his nose. "I hate the word prudent. Reminds of another word I hate: prude." He grinned. "So… tomorrow night?"

She hesitated a second, then laughingly shook her head.

"Tomorrow night it is!"

#####

The next day, Cuddy brought Kristin Davies over to the diagnostics department.

"Have you met Dr. House?" she said.

Kristin smiled, knowingly.

"Oh, Dr. House and I go way back."

She winked at House and he wagged his eyebrows.

"Yeah?" Cuddy said, half-heartedly.

"Dr. House is a fellow motorcycle enthusiast."

"You don't say," Cuddy said.

"We both like powerful machinery between our legs," House said, grinning.

"Indeed we do," Kristin said, grinning back.

"Let me show you the, uh, white board," Cuddy said, leading Kristin into the differential room.

After the tour, Cuddy came back to House's office.

"What the hell was that all about?" she said.

"What?" he said innocently.

"I could get pregnant from all the eye sex you and Kristin Davies were having."

"Your plan is in motion."

"What plan? I told you to be nice to her, not mount her in your office."

"You told me to ask her out!"

"When did I say that?"

"Your exact phrase was 'whatever it takes.' I naturally assumed. . ."

"That I was _pimping you out_?"

He shrugged.

"Basically, yeah."

She contemplated him.

"So where are you taking her?"

"Bike trip to Chez Jacques out on Route 1," he said, tipping back in his chair like an antsy teenager in math class.

Cuddy folded her arms.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow night."

Then, popping back up, he squinted at her.

"You look upset."

"I'm not upset. I'm…worried that you're going to screw this up."

"I will be everything Kristin Davies needs me to be."

Cuddy started to say something, then stopped.

"Be careful," she said instead.

"Careful is my middle name," he said. And then he tipped back so far on his chair he almost fell over.

######

Cuddy was distracted for the rest of the day. She tried to convince herself that her concern was strictly professional. House was a wild card. Having the hospital's fate rely on him being a dream date wasn't exactly a comfortable feeling. But she also knew that the gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach was more than just professional concern.

Did House actually like this Davies woman? With her teased hair, red lipstick, and angry little arm muscles, Kristin looked a bit like an aging country western star on a reunion tour. She seemed to be made of plastic—those preternaturally perky boobs!—but some men liked that type. Not House though, right? He liked all-natural, sophisticated brunettes like. . .Stacy. And besides, he had rejected Kristin already. This "date" was his version of taking one for the team.

But then again, when did House actually do anything selflessly? She couldn't get him to fill out a budget report or do clinic duty, let alone sacrifice a night off to wine and dine a near stranger. No, some small part of him must be into her.

And a ride on a rustic road? To a charming little French bistro? That sounded. . .romantic. Like the kind of date she could never dream of going on with House. (Not that she ever dreamt about such things. . .)

That night, she couldn't sleep. She kept looking at the clock on her nightstand. By 11:30 pm, she knew the date had to be over. She could call him. (One of the great things about being friends with House was that normal societal rules didn't seem to apply to him. How many times had he called or shown up at her doorstep, unbidden, in the middle of the night?)

So she called.

He answered after a couple of rings.

"How did it go?" she said.

There was a pause, then a kind of rustling sound, and then she heard him say quietly, "It's the hospital. I gotta take this in the other room."

Cuddy's mouth dropped open.

"She's still there?"

She heard a door close.

"Why are you calling me this late?" he said.

"She's still there?" she repeated.

"Yeah…we just got back from Chez Jacques and I invited her in for a nightcap."

"Oh my God, House. Do not sleep with this woman."

"Why not?" he said. She could almost hear the smirk over the phone.

"Because it's . . . unprofessional!"

"You are the world's worst pimp, you know that?"

"House, I wanted you to be nice to her. Get on her good side. Not have sex with her."

"It would seem that _is_ the way to get on Ms. Davies' good side."

"I cannot believe you."

"Oh come on, Cuddy. I'm just joking. We're going to have one drink. That's it. No sex. I promise."

"You're lying."

"Why would I lie about a thing like this?"

"Why would you tell the truth?"

"Huh," he said. "Good point. Anyway, gotta go. Can't keep my guest waiting."

######

She found him the next day, just when he was getting in the elevator.

"Hold that!" she yelled, but he ignored her.

So she raced down the hall and managed to slip into the elevator, just before the doors closed.

"Hi Cuddy. What's on your mind?" he asked, amused.

"Thanks for holding the door," she said, slightly out of breath.

"Sorry, I was distracted. Lovingly replaying the events of last night in my mind."

She glared at him, "What happened?"

"We went for a ride. We had coq au vin. We went back to my place for a drink. You know the rest." Then he pretended to look around the elevator. "Speaking of which, where is the Divine Ms. Davies? She's been attached to your hip for two days now."

"I let Chase take over babysitting duties for the afternoon. Because I needed to know how much damage control was necessary."

"Damage control?" he said, innocently. "Why would there be a need for damage control?"

"House, I don't 'know the rest.' Just tell me everything that happened. And be specific."

"Why is this so important to you?"

"You know why."

"Do I?"

The elevator had stopped and House got off. Cuddy followed him.

"I'm going to the men's room. You gonna follow me in there?" he asked.

"We have bathrooms, several of them in fact, on every floor, House."

"Just kidding," he said. "I came to the fourth floor to use this very important….supply closet."

And he stepped into the closet.

She followed him.

He closed the door behind them, his eyes flashing.

"Alone at last," he said.

"Shut up House."

"You're hot when you're jealous," he said, taking a step toward her.

She backed away, up against a shelf.

"I'm not jealous. My interest in this is strictly professional."

"Suuuure it is."

"It is," she protested.

"C'mon Cuddy. You've been obsessed with my 'date' with Madam Inspector ever since you pimped me out to her."

"I DIDN'T PIMP YOU OUT. . ." she was raising her voice in frustration, but then she composed herself. "What about you?" she said, somewhat leadingly.

"What about me?"

"Isn't it ironic that you accuse me of being jealous when you were so distracted by my one date with army boy it made you incontinent!"

"Not analogous," he said.

"No? Why not."

"Because at least I admit I have the hots for you. You pretend that this is all about work."

"When did you admit you had the hots for me?"

"Are you kidding? How many times do I have to comment on your ass before it finally sinks in?"

"That's just you being a jerk."

"That's me being upfront about my desires," he said, taking another step toward her. "You should try it some time."

"What really happened, House," she said, in a slightly defeated voice.

"Nothing," he said, sincerely. "I got off the phone with you, said there was a hospital emergency I needed to attend to, and we said goodnight."

"How?"

"In English," he said.

"Did you kiss her?" she said. She felt ridiculous, but she needed to know.

"Maybe," he said. "I gave her a chaste kiss…like this."

And he leaned in and gave her a brushing kiss on the lips.

He had barely touched her, but she felt weak in the knees.

"Just like that?" she said.

"Maybe more like this," he said, and kissed her a little longer this time, his tongue gently caressing her mouth.

"Really?" she said, equal parts annoyed and turned on.

"Maybe I touched her breast," he said, stroking her breast over her blouse, his thumb grazing her nipple. "Like this."

She shuddered a bit, then hastily ducked away.

"You touched her gross fake boobs?" she said, hurt. (But the fact that she was red-faced and obviously turned on was making her indignation less credible.)

He studied her for a second.

"No," he said finally. "There was no physical contact of any sort between us. I don't even think we exchanged a hearty handshake."

"You're just saying that because you want to kiss me again," she said.

"Oh, I want to do much more than that," he said, his hands beginning to shimmy up her skirt.

"House. . ."

"Nothing happened. There's only one powerful woman in this hospital that I want to have my way with," he said. And with that, he slammed her against a metal shelf—its contents shook—and began to kiss her, hard—his tongue insistent and probing, his hands greedily roaming her form. In moments, she had wrapped her leg around him and he was kneading her ass, and Cuddy thought that somewhere, in the back of her mind, she had known that this day would come—the day she fucked Gregory House in a supply closet.

"The door?" she asked him, almost too worked up to even care at this point.

"It automatically locks from inside," he said, out of breath, busily unbuttoning her blouse and devouring her cleavage, his erection huge and hard against her thigh.

But that was a lie, the kind of lie men told when they were too aroused to stop, and they were both about to find out it was a lie because, moments later, they heard a man's voice.

"And this is one of the supply closets, where we, uh, keep our supplies," Robert Chase said. And he swung open the door.

House and Cuddy froze, horrified.

"Oh shit," Chase said. Because standing beside him was none other than New Jersey State Inspector, Badge #28926, Kristin Davies.

"I…we…can explain," Cuddy said, disentangling herself from House and hastily buttoning her blouse.

There was really nothing House could do but snap his fly, buckle his belt and stand there, relieved that, if nothing else, getting caught in such fashion was the world's fastest boner shrinker.

"Well, this is awkward," he said.

"I think we've seen enough of the supply closet," Chase said, quickly trying to lead Kristin away. "Way more than enough," he added, under his breath.

"What the hell is going on here?" Kristin demanded, not budging.

"We're….um….taking inventory?" House offered, scratching his head.

Then something seemed to occur to Kristin.

"Is Dr. Cuddy the woman?" she said. "The one who dumped you and broke your heart?"

Cuddy looked at House, confused.

"Yes," House said, firmly. "Yes, that's it. I thought I was over her. I'm sorry I'm not. You know how it is with long-term relationships." And to prove his point, he put an arm around Cuddy possessively. Then he whispered, closely, in her ear, "Just go with it."

"No," Kristin said, considering it. "That's not it."

"It's not?" House said.

"I distinctly remember Dr. Cuddy telling me she hadn't had a serious boyfriend in years because she was 'married to the hospital.' Your stories don't jibe."

"Of course she said that. Would _you_ admit to dating me?" House cracked.

Kristin shook her head.

"This is what I think is going on. I think you found out that I was the inspector and Dr. Cuddy asked you to take me on a date, to make up for the way you insulted me at the bike shop."

"You took her on a date?" Chase said, utterly baffled by this whole series of events.

"And you agreed to date me, to please her," Kristin continued, "because you want to get in her pants. Am I close?"

"Remarkably," House admitted.

"You're right Dr. Chase," Kristin said. "I have seen enough of this supply closet."

She walked out, huffily, and Chase followed her, as did Cuddy, who was already trying to smooth things over.

"Ms. Davies, I am so sorry for this breach of conduct." House heard her say, her heels clicking loudly on the linoleum, as she chased after them. "I hope you won't penalize the hospital because of my egregiously inappropriate behavior. . ."

House exhaled, closed his eyes.

"Fuck my life," he said, out loud.

#######

Later, he found Chase, alone in the DDx room.

"How bad was it?" he said.

"I don't know. When I last left them, Cuddy was in her office with Davies, with the door closed. I heard yelling."

House put his head in his hands.

"She's going to hate me."

"What I saw in that supply closet was definitely not hate."

"Yeah….about that. . ." House said.

"About what?" Chase said. "I saw an empty supply closet. And that's all anybody needs to know about it."

House gave him a grim, appreciative smile.

"You're not that bad," he said. "For an Aussie."

######

A few hours later, Kristin Davies wrapped up her inspection of the hosptial. And shortly thereafter, House skulked down to Cuddy's office, prepared to throw himself on her mercy.

He found her sitting on her couch, staring into space.

"Are we toast?" he said, sitting next to her.

"I don't know," she said. "I've never groveled so much in my life."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It's not your fault," she said. "I was in that supply closet, too, you know."

"I'm sorry that somehow, I managed to screw things up for the hospital again. Even when I try to do the right thing, I fuck it up."

"It's your curse," Cuddy said.

"Do you hate me?"

"I could never hate you, House," she said, adding ironically, "That's _my_ curse."

They were silent for a minute.

"You were never really attracted to her, were you?" Cuddy said finally.

"Kristin Davies? No, I like someone else," he said, eyeing her hopefully.

"So you took her out strictly to help the hospital," she said, still a bit surprised.

"I did it for you," he said.

Tentatively, he took her hand.

She looked at him. For a moment, her mind drifted to the supply closet, how amazing his body had felt against hers, how much she had wanted him.

"My door actually _does _lock from the inside," she whispered.

#######

A week later, a thick envelope arrived from the New Jersey Medical Board.

"House get down here," Cuddy said over the phone.

"Is that it?" House said, when he arrived in her office.

"My hands are shaking," Cuddy said.

Once again, they sat side-by-side on the couch.

Cuddy stared at the envelope, afraid to open it.

"It's thick. Is that a sign?" House said.

"It's not an acceptance letter from Harvard, House. It's an inspection report."

"You want me to….?"

"No, I'll do it."

She carefully opened the envelope and began to read.

Then she stopped, closed her eyes and rested her head on the couch.

"What, woman? What?" House said.

"We passed," she said, handing him the papers.

"Oh thank God," he said. He began to scan the report, which was mostly technical stuff about equipment being up to code and a bit of understaffing in the cancer ward. Then he got to a part near the end.

"Small hospitals need a dynamic leader and Dr. Lisa Cuddy is just that," he read out loud. "She is hardworking, dedicated, and manages to balance her visionary instincts with a keen focus on the bottom line. Most importantly, her staff is uniquely loyal to her. They will do just about anything she asks of them, often going to extreme measures to please her."

"It does not say that!" Cuddy giggled.

"It does!" he said, showing her the paragraph.

He read on: "I sincerely hope she appreciates her staff's devotion to her. . Especially Gregory House, who is completely fucking crazy about her."

"You definitely made that part up," she said.

"Okay, maybe that last bit."

"Just for the record," she said. "She feels the exact same way."

THE END


End file.
